Lying to You
by Kittenshift17
Summary: I saw you get my flowers this morning. And I know you know they're from me. No one else knows you like I do. That's why when he asked you who they were from, you smiled and pretended you didn't know. You're lying to him now. You're lying to him for me. One-Shot.


**Lying to You**

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><p>I saw you get my flowers this morning. And I know you know they're from me. No one else knows you like I do. That's why when <em>he<em> asked you who they were from, you smiled and pretended you didn't know. You're lying to him now. You're lying to him for me.

I wish you were doing because you like the thrill of keeping it a secret. I wish you were doing it because in your heart you know you should be with me. I wish you were lying to him because you're sitting there thinking that for all his posturing and dotage and extravagant claims of love, he'll never love you like I can. I wish you weren't doing it in some misguided venture to protect me from his cruelty.

I wish you weren't doing it because you hate me now.

You know in your heart that he and his posse know they're from me. They know you're lying to him too. But you bite your lip and pretend that they're not from me. You let him glare around the room at anyone with the nerve to love _his_ girl. You duck your head when your friends gush and sigh over the fact that unlike them, you've got the love of more than one man in this place.

They're jealous of you, you know? They envy that you're with _him_. When you're not looking they shoot him covetous glances. They've not realised he's a lost cause for you.

That's what it is to love you.

A lost cause. A curse. A sickness for which there is no curse.

He doesn't think so. You've had him wrapped around your little finger since the day we met him on the train all those years ago. He's so smitten with you that he's willing to throw vanity and dignity to the side if it means he has a shot at catching your attention. He's cleverer than I gave him credit for. I should've realised sooner; it was only a matter of time before you started looking in his direction, looking to him for the love and the affection you need.

Was it his looks that finally hooked you? That popularity he buys at the expense of others? At the expense of people like me? What is it that you see in him? I wish I knew. I wish that you saw it in me, but you don't. I used to think we were the very best of friends, but now you're on his arm and I'm nothing but a dark smear at the edge of your vision, a stain upon your memories.

That's why today he's your Valentine instead of me.

I don't know what you see in him, but I do know what he sees in you. You are kindness and light and all those good things in the world that people delight about. You were the light to my darkness. And now you're gone from me, leaving me alone in this miserable abyss. All because I lost my temper at them and took it out on you.

Don't you know I didn't mean it? Don't you know I'd do anything for you? Don't you know how much I love you? How I've loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you when we were just a pair of oddball nine years old? Can't you see that I love you more fervently than him?

Maybe you can…

Maybe that's the trouble. You always told me I was too intense in my emotions. That I feel things too passionately. That it's probably unhealthy.

Is that why you're with him? Because I love you too much? Because where he cherishes you and adores you, I obsess over you? I want to say I can help it; that I can change; that I don't have to love you so zealously, but we both know it would be a lie.

A lie like the ones you're telling him.

He got you lilies today. He thinks it's funny and romantic to make puns and silly nonsensical phrases that relate to your name. He doesn't even know they're not your favourite flowers. Not like I do. That's why I sent you the daisies. Not just because it's Valentine's Day and I knew you'd never spare me another look. I just wanted to point out the difference between us. Sure, he's more handsome than me. He's funnier than me. He loves you more safely than I do. But he'll never know you like I do.

Not if he loves you for the rest of your life, like I will. He'll never truly know what those daisies mean to you. He'll never know the full story behind that little squiggle scar on the palm of your hand. You'll never tell him, will you? He'll never know there's an identical one on my palm. He'll never know about those long days we spent by the river, lounging on the riverbed wiling away the hours.

You won't tell him because you know it's not what he wants to hear. He doesn't want to hear about the memories that have me in them. All he wants to hear about is his silly friends and how much you love him.

Because you're lying to him, just like you lied about the flowers. Just like you'll lie later when you find that box of your favourite caramel chews hidden in the bottom of your bag. When he asks who gave them to you, you're going to lie to him again. Because that's what you do, Lily Evans.

You're lying to your friends. You're lying to him. You're lying to me. But mostly, you're lying to you.

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><p><strong>AN: Review and let me know what you thought of Snape's angsty Valentine's Day. =) Much Love. XX- Kitten.**


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